


It begins here, a beating of the heart

by cyberkogane



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Comfort, Healing, M/M, a short drabble; a little study on shiro, adam isn't dead in this sorry not sorry, shiro reflects on some things
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-12
Updated: 2018-08-12
Packaged: 2019-06-26 04:01:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,118
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15655350
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cyberkogane/pseuds/cyberkogane
Summary: "He leans forward until their breaths mingle, until his lashes are fluttering against his cheeks and Adam brings his other hand to cup the back of Shiro's head.And then, like gravitation and the constant motion of life in orbit, they come together."





	It begins here, a beating of the heart

 

* * *

 

 

 _"If you must mourn, my love_  
_Mourn with the moon and the stars up above_  
_If you must mourn,_  
_Don't do it alone."_

_-Keaton Henson_

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

 

Takashi Shirogane figures he isn't really supposed to be here. 

 

Growing up, life seemed fleeting. There had been the whispering trees of home and the river, gushing and thrumming like the beating of his young heart. There were blue skies and at night there were the stars. He'd dream of chasing after them, finding a home among them when his own seemed most unwelcome. 

  
For all intents and purposes, his parents were good. They had good jobs, fed him good food, kept the house in good shape. But Shiro's mind was a whirlwind, small hands dipping in rainbow paint before he knew it could possibly run through his veins. Maybe there were signs, bits of him that shone above the surface and maybe this scared his parents; maybe it was just too _bright_ for them.

They say parents are supposed to love you unconditionally. Through the best times and the worst, holding you up until the end of the world.

He likes to think that they tried. He likes to pretend that it doesn't still hurt.

Wandering through the ATLAS, Shiro lets the flesh of his palm run along the cool metal walls. The ship hovers above the world, keeping watch like a silent guardian while simultaneously helping refugees enter the atmosphere. Shiro has shaken hundreds of hands, smiled at children and let them touch his prosthetic, heard languages he couldn't hope to understand but found beautiful anyway.

Now, there is a short time of peace and quiet. Coran has been tinkering with the lights and Shiro sighs the moment they flicker, fingertips falling away from their venture. He's been walking for a while but he finds that he can't sit still. There's a constant need to move, to keep himself distracted from the firing neurons in his brain. Sleep is rare and food doesn't taste like much of anything but he figures as long as he's moving, he'll be alright.

There are ways he chooses to avoid the shadows when his new medication falters. When his nightmares turn to paranoia, when walls fall away and he feels himself float, lost in white-noise and blurred lines. Walking like this just so happens to be the easiest. 

He knows the others are helping down below, aiding in the rebuilding of their world. Walking up to the star-deck, Shiro doesn't focus on the burning balls of gas glimmering in the distance. He doesn't do that much at all anymore; not like he used to. Before all of this, all he could do was look up. Search and soar, reaching with shaky fingers to the cosmic horizon.

Now, he watches Earth. It spins in blues and greens, clouds covering portions of the oceans while lights shine from homes in the dark. Following the lights like a map, Shiro leans against the wall and lets his head rest, white hair falling across his forehead like a brush of moth wings. Stale air pushes through the vents, allowing him a deep breath. It surges through his lungs with vigor, as if reminding him: _you are still here._

That's all any of them can ask for now.

"There you are."

Shiro jumps and spins, the sight of earth falling away.

In the foyer, Adam holds out a hand. A simple gesture, a tether for Shiro to grasp, his hand is warm with blood and _life._

"I couldn't sleep." Shiro lets his fingers tangle with Adam's, calluses and deeply weathered lines finding place.

Adam pulls him forward and Shiro falls willingly, head coming to rest on the expanse of his shoulders. He breathes him in, finding home in the musk and slight spice, a hint of coffee-

"Rest now." Adam says, voice soft in whisper, "I got you."

Like a pulling of a plug, Shiro's entire being drains. He sinks into Adam and tries to mold them together, to match their breathing and the thump of each heartbeat.

The day Adam came back, Shiro didn't believe it. Marked as one of the dead, he assumed he'd remain that way. Snatched away from life and the chances it could bring, kept away from Shiro by a merciless hand, there had been no indication that the pilot had lived.

But he had. Miraculously, he  _had._

And only now, after months and months of tension and forced professionalism, do they come together again.

They sway but there's no need for music. Cool wafts of air brush against Shiro's neck and he shakes, tightening his grip on the back of Adam's jacket. He'd left his prosthetic in his room but he barely notices, finding no need for it now. Adam's hand rises to Shiro's hair, brown fingers playing with the grown strands, goosebumps rising on his own skin at the puffs of air Shiro releases against his neck.  
  
Shiro wonders if his parents would have liked Adam. If maybe, in some other universe, they could have loved them both. That if they'd survived the initial wave of the invasion, their minds would have shifted. Perhaps their hearts would have opened and later, their arms. 

"You're thinking too hard." Adam pulls back, thumb brushing against the crest of Shiro's cheek.

"Sorry." Shiro's voice cracks, eyes shifting away-

Adam's thumb trails Shiro's chin, urging him to look back. Shiro's eyes find the huge scar trailing up Adam's throat, across his chin and into the bottom of his lip. A shard from his exploded ship had almost torn his head away from his body-

But Shiro doesn't like to think about that.

He leans forward until their breaths mingle, until his lashes are fluttering against his cheeks and Adam brings his other hand to cup the back of Shiro's head.

And then, like gravitation and the constant motion of life in orbit, they come together. Shiro lets himself feel the hurt; of his parents, of his past and the deaths that may never truly leave his memories; and then he lets it go, like a weapon falling to the ground after battle, slipping from his fingers before turning to ash in the wind. 

With Earth at his back and the sun of their universe beyond, the beating heart of his team echoing in the air around him and Adam beginning a soft hum in his ear, Shiro knows that he'll be alright.

In the end, this pain is a slow passing thing. It won't be easy and there are things he will continue to deal with alone. Violence may return with an iron grasp but he'll be ready, fierce as a lion with wings.

Healing begins here.

**Author's Note:**

> I think i'm going to write a larger fic for these two. I hope you liked this little ramble. 
> 
>  
> 
> Come say hello on tumblr: [starshinebf](https://starshinebf.tumblr.com/)


End file.
